


Loud

by babbitly



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:09:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2045472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babbitly/pseuds/babbitly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rock band AU Murahimu. Tattoo Trash Murahimu. </p>
<p>This is a PwP. Himuro likes it loud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loud

**Author's Note:**

> please go look at istehlurvs tattoo trash murahimu art. that is who i wrote about. me sam and bent went a lil murahimu nuts last night and this is what happened.

Sometimes when he catches Atsushi from the corner of his eye on the stage he can’t help himself; he stares. And tonight wasn’t an exception. You wouldn’t think it would be easy to forget that you’re being watched by thousands of people as you’re singing, but Himuro does. Everything else falls away as he walks toward Atsushi who’s hunched over the drum set he sits behind. His hands are moving; structuring the beat of the song Himuro is singing, and Himuro’s entranced.

Atsushi’s head is down, the stray strands of hair not caught in his ponytail stuck against his sweaty face. Himuro walks around him, takes in his body from every angle, and stands behind him, to watch as his muscles flex and strain as he moves. His tattoo covered arms bulging and pulsing with the rhythm he plays. His back is almost entirely exposed too and Himuro smirks as their guitar player goes in to a solo. Atsushi straightens up slightly; arching his back a little to stretch, and Himuro let’s out a deep breath before belting the final few lines to their song, moving around the stage behind Atsushi, just so he can watch him play.

It’s not enough.

Himuro wants that shirt off.

Himuro wants the smooth skin of Atsushi’s back, decorated with tattoos that Himuro goes crazy for, to himself, but also for everyone to see that he’s his.

Himuro wants all these things, but most prominently, as the tightening of his pants suggests, he wants to go back to the hotel room and suck Atsushi’s dick and claim that as his own, too.

Himuro finishes the song as Atsushi flourishes his cymbals and decides right then, as he puts his fingertip against the smooth skin of Atsushi’s shoulder that he wants everyone to praise him that night, wants to put him on display for their fans.

“Are we still doing good tonight, New York City,” He yells into the microphone, as Atsushi turns his head slightly, the shaved side of his purple haired head sweaty and fucking perfect. The crowd screams and Himuro smiles, he’ll never get over that energy. But he wants them louder.

“I said are we doing good tonight, New York City?” He yells again, this time louder, and Atsushi smashes his drumsticks against his cymbals to add to the raucous noise. It’s almost deafening this time, and a jolt of excitement races through Himuro’s abdomen. Atsushi knows how much he likes it to be loud.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he yells, grabbing Atsushi’s bottle of water that’s on a stool next to his leg. He opens the cap and chugs quickly, before offering it to Atsushi who finishes off the water before tossing the bottle behind him and out of the way.

“Now I need everyone to give a big thank you to the band, on bass we’ve got Wei,” he yells, walking towards his blonde friend and patting him on the back as the crowd roars in approval.

“On guitar we’ve got Masako, the baddest bitch in all the music industry,” he yells again, as Araki grins at him and strums her fingers quickly over her cords.

“And lastly,” Himuro says, circling back around to stand behind Atsushi, who’s wiping a towel across his forehead, “we’ve got Atsushi, the best looking drummer this side of the Pacific Ocean.”

The crowd went nuts at that, just as Himuro knew they would. Atsushi had been a fan favorite since he was young and he and Himuro had been in their first band together. And then he just kept getting better looking as he aged and then he was in People last year as a contender for sexiest man alive. Atsushi didn’t get it. Himuro understood completely. Himuro was also very proud of that fact that it was Himuro he went to bed with every night. That it was Himuro’s name that he called as he climaxed. That it was Himuro who got to keep him.

Himuro laughs into the microphone at their response and flicks his eyes over to Atsushi’s face, his expression’s still bored, but Himuro can see the reddish tint to his cheeks, it’s very faint. He reaches his hand forward and runs his thumb across Atsushi’s lip, trails his hand down his cheek and neck and then presses his nails against the skin of his shoulder and drags his hand slow and steady across his back, tearing the distressed tank top as he goes. Atsushi arches his back at the movement, tilting his head backwards, eyes closed, exposing the designs that trail up the side of his neck from his chest and shoulders, letting Himuro see the “ACE” tattoo that they share in the lighting from the stage.

Himuro grins again, knowing he needs to get away from Atsushi before his dick gets any harder in his tight black pants and grabs the hem of Atsushi’s tank top and pulls hard, ripping the material so it falls away from his body. The crowd goes crazy at the movement, and Atsushi slowly turns his head to look at Himuro again.

The reddish tint is still on his cheeks from all of Himuro’s antics, but what makes Himuro’s eyes go wide in excitement is the look he gives him as rolls his shoulders and twists his neck to the side.

It’s need and want and lust and raw sexual prowess that are sitting behind those dark purple irises. And it’s all directed at Himuro, his stare never wavering.

            Himuro balls his hand in the fabric of Atsushi’s shirt and walks to the front of the stage, feeling Atsushi’s stare on his back as he goes.

            “Let’s keep the good night going, New York City!” Himuro yells as he hears Atsushi beat his drumsticks together behind him, and throws the purple haired man’s shirt into the audience as the drum line of their next song starts.

 

* * *

They barely make it into the hotel room before Atsushi has Himuro’s pants unzipped and Himuro has an arm wrapped around Atsushi’s back running his fingers over the red welt lines from scratching him at the show. It sends another jolt of excitement through his abdomen as he breaks his mouth away from Atsushi’s and steps around him to lick along the diagonal line from his shoulder to his side. His skin is salty from sweat and warm and Himuro knows he could taste him all day long.

“Muro-Chin,” Atsushi groans, rolling his head back, his loose purple strands hanging down on his shoulders.

“You’re so hot when you play, Atsushi,” Himuro says, kissing up his back and stepping around him to his front, “I almost can’t control myself.”

“I don’t want you to.”

Himuro looks up from under his eyelashes at Atsushi and their eyes meet. Atsushi’s purple eyes are still swimming with want, and Himuro feels his dick twitch at that look.

Himuro grabs the back of Atsushi’s head and pulls him down to his height to crash their lips together. He rubs his other hand over the shaved part of Atsushi’s hair, rubbing his thumb along the bristly hair as he licks Atsushi’s teeth. He feels Atsushi’s hand drop down to his back and slide into his black pants, pressing his fingers into the flesh of his ass. Himuro arches forward into Atsushi, as a moan escapes his throat and travels between their open mouths.

“Bed. Now.” Himuro says, pressing his forehead against Atsushi’s, their breaths mixing together.

“Muro-Chin’s so impatient,” Atsushi says in a snort of laughter, but he presses harder on Himuro’s ass, and lifts him up. Without thought Himuro wraps his legs around Atsushi’s waist, and latches his mouth on to the skin of his neck, tracing the “ACE” tattoo with his tongue as he walks.

Himuro loves fucking Atsushi, he loves getting fucked by Atsushi; He loves every single little thing about the giant purple haired man who’s sitting himself down on the bed with Himuro on his lap.

Himuro slides off of Atsushi’s waist and stands before him, peeling his pants off the rest of the way and shucking off his dark tank top. He reaches for Atsushi’s belt, trailing his hands over the planes of his abdomen and unbuckles it quickly before sliding his pants off him as well. Himuro drops to his knees wraps his hand around his cock, sliding from base to tip and back again before he takes Atsushi’s dick into his mouth, the thing he’s wanted to do since Atsushi twirled his first drumstick that night.

Atsushi’s moan is loud and it’s the sweetest noise Himuro can ever hope to hear. It excites him into action as he bobs his head up and down Atsushi’s cock, sliding his hand with his mouth, because he knows what those sounds mean.

Because when they fuck like this, with pure need and want, it’s not soft or calm or caring.

It’s wild and passionate and rough and it’s _loud_. Himuro knows it’s loud, and he loves it. He loves making his normally reserved drummer moan deep in his throat. Loves hearing his own name spill from Atsushi’s lips like an animalistic song, the only song he’ll ever need to sing to Himuro, as he breathes heavy and hard, and tangles his hands in Himuro’s hair.

“Muro-Chin,” Atsushi calls out, his nails scratching at Himuro’s scalp as he drags his tongue up the underside of Atsushi’s impressive cock. Himuro had been acquainted with Atsushi’s dick for quite a few years now, and impressive was still his favorite description. He can feel Atsushi pulling his head upward so he obliges and slides himself up his toned body, licking a trail up his tattooed abdomen.

Himuro stops at his nipple and bites lightly, looking up to Atsushi’s face and watching the purple haired man’s eye flutter as he swirls his tongue around the peak, his chest arching slightly. Fucking glorious.

Himuro continues his trail up Atsushi’s chest, sucking hard at the base of his neck and licking a line up to his jaw.

“What, Atsushi?” Himuro says into his stubbled skin, kissing him, biting him, unable to keep his taste from his mouth for more than a few seconds.

Atsushi pulls his face up to meet his and crashes his mouth against Himuro’s.

He kisses him hard and deep and slides his hand down Himuro’s back and then without warning flips them over so Atsushi is straddling Himuro on the large bed. Excitement jolts through Himuro’s abdomen at the movement as Atsushi slides across Himuro and sucks hard at the skin on his neck.

Atsushi bows his long body over his and hitches Himuro’s leg over his shoulder. He reaches between them and wraps his long fingers around Himuro’s cock, stroking slowly, thumbing the tip with every pass. Himuro can’t help but squirm and try to press his hips forward in to Atsushi’s hand, the slow pace killing him and pleasing him all at the same time. He feels that twist of pleasure in his abdomen start to run down his legs.

“Please.” Himuro pants, grabbing on to Atsushi’s bicep and pressing hard as he bucks his hips upward again.

“Muro-chin’s so excited.” Atsushi says, slowing the pace of his hand on Himuro’s dick even more. “What do you want me to do, Muro-chin?”

Himuro can hear the teasing in Atsushi’s voice; can see that deviant look on his face, and that wild smile play across his lips. Himuro swallows hard and arches his back as Atsushi focuses his ministrations on the head of Himuro’s cock, toying with him.

“Fuck me.” Himuro pants, his voice a low whine, unable to exert any control over it.

“I said,” Atsushi smirks, turning his head and biting into Himuro’s thigh, as his hand reaches down lower and his finger brushes over his entrance, “what do you want me to do, Muro-Chin?”

“Fuck me, Atsushi.” Himuro groans, loud, as he arches even further into Atsushi’s hand as his grip tightens on his cock.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Himuro can’t help but smirk at Atsushi’s teasing but it’s quickly wiped from his face as he feels Atsushi reach next to him and hears him squirt lube into his palm. Himuro watches Atsushi as he strokes himself, coating his cock before tracing a line down Himuro’s inner thigh with his long finger and circling his entrance, still toying with him.

Atsushi slips one finger inside Himuro pressing up in to him before curling his finger forward and pulling out to add a second finger to his movements. Himuro moves his hand back to Atsushi’s shoulder pressing hard as Atsushi grazes that glorious spot inside Himuro making his back arch up and thrust himself down on Atsushi’s hand.

“Fuck, Atsushi. FUCK, you’re so good, so good,” Himuro yells out, his voice rough.

            “Muro-chin, you’re so pretty.” Atsushi says with excitement in his voice, leaning down and kissing Himuro’s chest right over his “ACE” tattoo. He adds a third finger to his motions and Himuro feels his body go rigid with the sensation of Atsushi filling him like this, grazing that spot again and again. “I want you to get louder.” Atsushi says, all serious this time.

            Himuro’s eye snap open and he stares at Atsushi, whose eyes are narrowed. His hair has almost come completely loose from his ponytail and it frames his face as his head is down, watching Himuro writhe. Himuro rolls his hips downward, forcing his eyes to stay open as Atsushi licks his lips at the sight of Himuro fucking himself on his fingers.

            He needs him now.  

            He wants to feel Atsushi inside him _now_.

“Atsushi,” Himuro whines, his voice a cry as Atsushi pumps his hand on his cock and curls his fingers in side him in unison. Himuro lets out a loud groan and Atsushi smiles.

He pulls his fingers from Himuro, keeping a steady hand on Himuro’s cock, and strokes himself once, twice, before lining himself up to Himuro’s entrance. He presses forward, brushing the tip of his dick against him. He presses in to Himuro slowly, letting him adjust to the size. Himuro pushes his head back in to the bed as the pain ebbs, he rolls his hips downward, signaling Atsushi to move.

Atsushi pulls back all the way and slams in to him, one hand wrapped around Himuro’s thigh, the other stroking his cock, as he thrusts in a grueling rhythm. Himuro’s not really sure what he’s saying anymore but he knows it’s loud, he can see Atsushi smirking with every thrust as Himuro cries out into the air of their hotel room.

Atsushi thrusts against him hard, their skin slapping together and their heavy breaths mixed with Himuro’s whines fill the room. Himuro feels the pleasure build in him, feels it singe its way across his abdomen and down his legs as his toes curl and he rocks his body downward to meet Atsushi’s thrusts. They’re always in unison when they fuck, like they were made to be doing just this. Himuro thinks they were.

Atsushi pushes Himuro’s leg to the side and speeds up his thrusts, his whole body rolling with his movements, and Himuro thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen him. His cheeks flushed, his skin sticky with sweat, his hair wild, and the traces of Himuro’s nail marks on his arms raised over his tattooed skin.

Himuro feels the heat spike in his abdomen as Atsushi twists his hand around the base of his cock and knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“Muro-Chin,” Atsushi groans out, as he leans forward and presses his mouth to Himuro’s chest, sucking a nipple between his teeth and puling lightly at the piercing there. Just how Himuro likes it, just how Atsushi knows he likes it. Himuro pants hard, and then he’s coming between them in sticky spurts, as he yells out Atsushi’s name, clenching around Atsushi, digging his nails into Atsushi’s back as he moves on top of him.

Atsushi keeps moving, his thrusts getting shallower and shallower as he bites into Himuro’s’ chest. And then h’s erratic, his rhythm out of sync and he arches his back, calling out “Muro-Chin” as he thrusts hard into Himuro once, twice, three times, as his heat fills Himuro. Atsushi’s arms tense as he let’s his weight off of his arms and lays half way on Himuro, his chest heaving, his purple hair fanned out across Himuro’s chest.

They lay in silence for a minute both of them recovering from that shock of pleasure they just experienced, just breathing. In unison. Always together.

A few minutes later Atsushi moves. He pushes up onto his arms again and pulls out of Himuro slowly. Himuro lets out a hiss at the movement from near his sensitive dick as Atsushi presses his lips into Himuro’s neck again, sucking and biting. He’s always sucking and biting.

Himuro loves it.

“How am I going to explain that hickey, Atsushi?’ Himuro laughs; rubbing his hands down Atsushi’s back, feeling the new welts from his nails.

“I don’t give a fuck how you explain it, Muro-Chin.” Atsushi says into his skin, moving his mouth to Himuro’s collarbone and biting lightly, his voice drowsy from pleasure. He licks and sucks a trail across Himuro’s’ chest, tracing the “ACE” tattoo one last time before lying beside Himuro and pulling him in to his large chest.  “You shouldn’t taste so sweet, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

 


End file.
